From Serf to Swordmaster, Chapter 27
From Serf to Swordmaster, Chapter 27
Berak did not have long to dwell on it before Melphis spoke again.
"Anyway, just think about how incredible it would be if you could handle Anima on top of your blessing. Right?"
Berak raised his head. Vice-captain Varkan had said something similar before.
"I heard that Anima...... can only be obtained by overcoming a brush with death."
"Right. And even then, it's a gamble with no guarantee of success on the first attempt. Knights are different, though."
"You mean the secret manuals."
Melphis raised his eyebrows as if surprised.
"You know about them? Do you know specifically what kind of objects they are?"
"They're...... books containing some kind of mysterious power?"
That was the impression the name gave. Melphis let out a small laugh.
"Rather than something mystical, they're closer to martial manuals containing the philosophy passed down through a family for generations."
"Philosophy......?"
"Anima is ultimately the power to impose the shape of one's soul upon the world. We observe etiquette and repeat the same movements tens of thousands of times to engrave the family's philosophy into our souls. That is why a knight order's Anima comes to resemble its house's traditions. One family may embody impregnable defense; another, the momentum of a thunderbolt."
Melphis drew the dagger at his waist and pressed it slowly down onto a lump of stone lying at his feet.
Crunch.
The moment the sharp blade touched it, the stone collapsed into fine dust.
"Our Hellvern philosophy is 'merciless crushing.' It excludes detours and flashy tricks."
Berak recalled the attacks of Vivian and the knights he had seen during battle. Now that he thought about it, they had generally felt similar.
"A secret manual is far more stable and powerful than the mercenary method of confronting one's essence before death. It's a collection of techniques and spirit refined over hundreds of years."
Melphis sheathed the dagger he had just used to crush the stone and held it out toward Berak.
"......?"
"The young lady told me to pass this on. She said a warrior should use a weapon suited to their talent. The one you're carrying now is...... a bit crude, isn't it?"
The blade held a bluish sheen, and even its sheath was set with jewels. For Berak, who treated daggers as disposable throwing weapons, it was extravagantly fine equipment.
"This is......."
Before Berak could find the words to refuse, another object was thrust toward him: a red liquid in a transparent glass bottle.
"Oh, and this potion too. I saw that one of the mercenaries was badly wounded yesterday. It will look better if you hand it over yourself, so take it and earn some goodwill."
The sudden explanation about Anima. The excessive gifts. Only then did Berak begin to grasp Melphis's intent—or rather, Vivian's intent behind it.
"I'll gratefully accept the potion, but this dagger is too much."
"Oh, you're quick on the uptake. Or was I too obvious?"
Melphis scratched his head awkwardly and laughed lightly.
"Don't feel burdened. Accepting the gift doesn't mean you have to join our knight order. The young lady will respect your decision. Just take it for now."
Berak's gaze lingered on the potion bottle. He could not keep refusing only the dagger while taking only the potion.
"Understood. I'll accept it gratefully."
He took the potion first and tucked it into his chest. Then, the moment he received the dagger, Berak's brow furrowed.
It was different from the chill of ordinary metal.
A cool energy seeped through his palm, wrapped around his arm, and then swept through his entire body.
The strange chill reached into his bones, enough to raise goosebumps.
At the same time, the Record Sheet reacted.
[Special Event: Master of Shadows]
[Imprinted as the owner of a dagger imbued with the will of the legendary assassin, 'Celine']
「Dagger Proficiency + 3」
「Senses + 5」
「Stealth + 10」
[※ Note: Imprinted as owner, but the will's 'hunger' has not yet been sated. (Additional information unlocked upon a successful assassination)]
His abilities had risen through an object. He had experienced something similar before, so the initial shock quickly subsided.
'Then this dagger must be an artifact-grade item.'
Berak had been about to question Melphis, but closed his mouth. The sensation that the dagger had already "recognized him as its owner" was unmistakable. Intuitively, he understood that only his death could undo the imprint.
'Then there's no need to reveal this fact.'
Melphis, stretching beside him, seemed to have felt nothing. By common sense, if he had known it was an object of this caliber, he would never have handed it over.
Berak had unintentionally acquired an item far more valuable than the young lady's intended favor. Suppressing the turmoil in his senses, he silently put the dagger away.
* * *
Breakfast was thin grain porridge and hard dried meat.
After yesterday's unexpected favor, Berak found his gaze drifting toward Vivian. Despite being a young lady raised in luxury, she sat on the rough ground chewing the dried meat.
"Looks like Kuberon's life is going to cost us one promising member."
When he turned his head at the voice from behind, Kyle was wearing an odd smile.
Kuberon was the bushy-bearded mercenary who had pulled through thanks to the potion Berak had handed over yesterday.
"The price of his life?"
"You may not know it, but a potion capable of healing an injury that severe is a treasure difficult to obtain even with money. Lady Vivian has made her intentions clear not only to you, but to me as well."
The potion's value was far higher than Berak had guessed. Of course, the dagger's 'true value' would be no less.
"Are you certain I'll leave?"
"You're someone who values freedom. But they don't seem to intend to treat you as an ordinary squire. If things go well, they may promise you training as a knight directly under the count's house—or even more extraordinary treatment."
"Even so, I wouldn't be able to live as I please like now."
"Maybe. But doesn't the count's house's secret manual tempt you?"
Berak fell into thought for a moment. What Melphis had said yesterday about 'engraving philosophy' came to mind.
"Is the knight's way necessarily stronger than the mercenary's?"
"I can't say for certain, but usually it is."
"Then I'll try to belong to that rare exception."
It was true that the safe and refined path was alluring. But the more he heard the explanation, the more an uneasy feeling lingered.
The idea of being stained by someone else's philosophy unsettled him. Berak did not want another person's will painted over his soul. Perhaps it was a reaction to his years of oppression, but freedom was something he would not trade for anything.
Admiration settled in Kyle's eyes.
"This is surprising. Since we owe Lady Vivian for saving Kuberon's life, I thought I had no grounds to try to keep you here......."
Berak made an uncharacteristically light joke.
"Then shall we discuss a pay raise contract again?"
Kyle chuckled and clapped Berak on the shoulder. Berak, who had been smiling back, soon hardened his expression.
'Still, if I received something, I should give something back.'
He was a mercenary, and he had no intention of discarding that status for the time being.
* * *
Immediately after the short meal, the pursuit began.
The forced breakthrough of the gorge the hobgoblins had occupied yesterday had clearly been worth it. They quickly found the footprints the creature had left on the dry wasteland soil.
Berak also sharpened his senses and followed the trail. He had never formally learned tracking, but he watched the angles and strides the mercenaries used to examine traces and tried to absorb their methods.
The senses stat that had risen yesterday was also a great help.
Amid the wasteland's dry, sandy smell carried on the wind, he caught the faint animal reek left on a pile of rocks. The acrid scent from trampled thorn bushes stood out unnaturally.
The pursuit went smoothly for a while. The mercenaries set the direction with practiced skill, and Berak confirmed their judgment was correct with his heightened senses.
And at last, the distance narrowed noticeably.
"......There."
At Vivian's voice, the party's footsteps stopped all at once.
Beyond a pile of rocks in the wasteland, a massive black-furred wolf appeared. It did not flee.
Instead, as though it had been waiting for them, it turned its head slightly and stared back.
Melphis immediately placed his hand on his sword hilt and glanced at Vivian.
"Everyone, charge?"
"...No. The distance is awkward. If we speed up, that thing will simply run and wear us down."
Vivian shook her head. Another knight offered an opinion.
"Then what if we spread out and drive it? If we close in from every direction, it won't be able to escape."
At that, Kyle stepped in this time.
"Without horses, we'll only exhaust ourselves in this rough wasteland terrain. The moment we scatter, there's also a great risk of being picked off one by one."
"Then what are you suggesting? That we just let that thing watch us?"
The knight retorted with dissatisfaction, but Vivian accepted Kyle's opinion.
"For now, maintaining formation is best. Everyone, advance at a quick march."
Tension stretched tight across the wasteland. The knights clenched their sword hilts as though they might break them and watched the creature's every move, while the wolf paced alongside them, muscles taut as it studied the party.
The creature often hid its body between rock crevices or heat shimmers and vanished from sight, but its presence could still be felt close at hand.
"Damn......!"
That maddening distance—close enough to seem catchable, yet always just out of reach—wore at their nerves until someone finally groaned in frustration.
The feeling of chasing prey blurred before long, and only the unpleasant sensation of being lured into the creature's territory deepened.
Berak felt the same. His nerves were on edge, but he kept his senses extended so he could react immediately.
「Senses + 1」
The ability that had increased so much yesterday rose again, but Berak had no room to celebrate.
Before long, as the sun began to set, Vivian finally halted the party.
"Enough. We stop here today and resume the pursuit tomorrow. We'll need to find another method."
Suppressed sighs escaped from several people. The exhausted party hurried to make camp.
Some fell asleep without even eating. Berak ate only enough to quiet his hunger, then lay down.
Since he had stood night watch yesterday, there was no need to wake in the middle of the night.
How much time had passed? Berak's eyes snapped open.
No one had woken him, and he had heard no noise.
His sharpened sense of smell caught a faint bloody tang in the cold night air. It was extremely faint, but unmistakably the smell of freshly spilled blood.
Berak instinctively reached for his axe. He threw back the tent flap and sprang outside.
Almost simultaneously, the sound of rough breathing and clashing equipment came from the neighboring tent.
"......!"
Only then did the watchmen guarding the perimeter seem to realize something was wrong and turn around. The wind had shifted, carrying the smell of blood that had pooled behind them across the entire camp.
"Who goes there!"
At the same time as the knight's shout, Berak was already running along the scent of blood.
Near the middle of the camp, Berak stopped.
It was where the mules had been tied.
The five mules that had been carrying the party's luggage lay collapsed in a row. Berak approached and examined the mules' condition.
Their necks were horribly caved in, as if each had been chewed once by enormous jaws.
The marks showed that the necks had been crushed whole. Berak frowned at the grotesque sight of flesh and bone mashed inward.
"Damn it, when......!"
A knight who had arrived late exclaimed in horror and scanned the surroundings. Behind him, knights and mercenaries burst out of their tents from all over.
"Situation?"
At Vivian's cold question, Berak shifted aside from where he had been crouching.
Beside the mules' corpses, enormous footprints were stamped deep into the ground.
Traces similar to the ones he had grown sick of tracking all day.
But... these tracks now carried an entirely different weight.